


Celebration

by Fuck_The_Gods



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Love, My First Work in This Fandom, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:13:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuck_The_Gods/pseuds/Fuck_The_Gods
Summary: Hank hated anniversaries. He loathed them. He didn't want to celebrate anything anymore.Except for one thing.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 82





	Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone !! This is my first work in this fandom and I'm fucking terrified, LOL.
> 
> Just a few notes before you start reading :   
> This is unbeta'd and English isn't my first language, so apologies for any mistakes that you could find in this. 
> 
> Please be careful of the tags !! This is a happy story but the beginning is quite dark and can be triggery for some people who might deal with those issues.

Anniversaries. Hank hated anniversaries. He loathed them. Too many of them in Hank's life hadn't been happy ones. Perhaps it was because he tended to focus on them instead of the good ones, but honestly Hank didn't care anymore. He was tired. He didn't want to celebrate anything anymore.

Except for one thing.

Hank was sat at his kitchen table, hunched over it as if the world and all that was wrong in it was weighting upon his shoulders. His too long grey hair hid his face, his lips pressed in a thin line, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Hank was looking without really seeing the items lying in front of him. He was familiar with them, they'd been his most loyal companions for so long. Silent listeners, never judging but neither helping.

Slowly, as if afraid his touch would break it, Hank took the picture frame of his son in his hands. He remembered with uncanny clarity the day it was taken, by a real photographer -- meaning he was human, one of the last left in Detroit--, in an actual photography studio, one day of October 2035 to send to Cole's mother who had asked for it. By the end of the day, however, Hank hadn't been able to part ways with the last memory of his son, the last thread that connected Hank to him.

And for four years, Hank had gripped that thread like a lifeline, even though he knew it was slowly killing him at the same time, keeping him from moving on from the grief.

Hank put the frame back on the table, face up, and poured himself another glass of whiskey. The third since this morning. It was 8:25 AM. The burning of the amber liquid soothed him for a second or two before the overwhelming pain swallowed his entire being up again.

He then turned his attention to the gun. His best friend really. Hank had lost count of how many times it had saved his old carcass on the field. And it could again now if only Hank wasn't such a coward. But as his hand closed on the grip it started to shake. And before he knew it his entire body was prey to uncontrollable, ugly sobs that had Sumo knowking his head against Hank's shin and whinning in concern.

Despite the mess in his head at the moment, Hank automatically lowered his right hand to pet and reassure Sumo. The dog eagerly leaned into the touch before lapping the hand, covering it in slobber. The wet feeling was what took Hank's attention away from the gun and his dark thoughts.

"Argh, Sumo!", he complained through his tears. His sobs subsided, slowly, as he got a hold of himself again. Sumo barked happily yet softly at him and Hank could only smile through his drying tears. Looked like the distraction worked.

Hank blinked away the remaining tears as he leaned back against the chair, allowing Sumo to put his front paws on his lap. His mind wandered as he scratched the dog behind the ears.

Every year was the fucking same, this particular day like a looming mountain that seemed impossible to climb, thus condemning him to the shadows of mourning. Hank looked down at his dog and his big brown eyes, so innocent and pure. They weren't without reminding him of someone...Someone, eh? How things have changed...Maybe not pulling the trigger had less to do with cowardice than he thought in the end. Maybe there were still some things in this world he desired to live for.

Hank sighed and let go of the gun.

Not today.

*~*

Connor woke up this morning after having shut down the whole night. He had felt like it was needed after yesterday. The case he had been working on with Hank had been tedious and nerve-racking and had found its bloody climax in the early hours of the morning. Their suspect, that they had been tracking down for over a week, was involved in android trafficking. After hours upon hours of analysing kidnapping sites, interviewing acquaintances and neighbors and too few eye-witnesses, Connor and Hank had finally located their man and the warehouse he was keeping the missing androids in. Or rather, what was left of them.

The pair of detectives had then headed there, confident in their probabilities of success. A well-experienced police lieutenant and the second most advanced android there was against a single man...what could have gone wrong?

It turned out, one misjudgement on their part was all it took for the operation to go very wrong, very quickly. Connor's stress levels spiked up just thinking about how close they had come to the worst. It all ended with their suspect in a body bag and a visit to the ER to replace Hank's dislocated shoulder and stitch his eyebrow.

Connor stretched himself -- an unnecessary habit he took from watching Hank (and Sumo)-- as he thought about it all. Captain Fowler had been pissed when they came back to the station to make their report. And worse, Connor could feel Nines' ever-judging eyes on the back of his head throughout the entire ordeal. Connor wasn't going to lie to himself, he didn't like the other android much. Some would say he was jealous. And perhaps they were right. Perhaps. It was an open secret at this point. Hank was aware of his dislike and so was Gavin, much to Connor's dismay.

Detective Reed's never been the most accomodating when it came to android matters, yet, by some miracle, he took to the RK 900 almost immediately. Where Connor was greeted every morning by derogatory words spat in his face, Nines was welcomed by a tap on the shoulder and a soft "Hey, tincan!", that sounded almost fond to Connor's ears.

He didn't understand. What was he doing wrong? What was wrong with him? What did Nines have that Connor didn't?

Why was he failing? What did he have to change so people could like him more ?

A whine and a scratch at his bedroom door brought him back to the present moment. He quickly dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and matching shirt before opening the door and steeling himself for the onslaught. As expected, an enormous white and brown ball of fur jumped on him, happily licking his face and the hands that tried to pry the large dog away from him.

"I'm happy to see you, too, Sumo!", Connor laughed at the over-excited dog. He bent down and buried his face in the soft fur for a couple minutes. Another ritual he took since he lived with Hank. He discovered that it helped him stay grounded, not unlike when he fumbled with his coin, and after the events of last night it truly felt good.

Connor sighed as he reluctantly pulled away and stood. He walked to the door and left his room to head to the kitchen, Sumo trailing dutifully behind him.

"Let's go find yourself and Hank some food". Sumo barked in agreement.

He was surprised, however, as he entered the kitchen to find Hank, washed and casually dressed, already at the table eating a plate of pancakes drowning in maple syrup. He seemed lost in thought.

Connor stopped in the threshold and checked his internal clock, 7:45 AM. In the year that Connor had known him he'd never seen Hank awake and up before 9, especially on an off day. Something was very wrong. Connor, from his position by the door, ran a quick scan on Hank, but it revealed nothing concerning. His heartbeat was slightly elevated, but other than that he was surprisingly healthy. Connor had been trying to improve Hank's eating and drinking habits after all so he was happy to see that his efforts hadn't been in vain, and Hank was actually following the android's recommendations.

"Good morning, Hank", Connor said as he entered the kitchen. He went to the cupboard on the far bottom right and took a can of dog food. Sumo's eyes never once left the food in Connor's hand as he followed him to his plate placed next to the door that led to the backyard.

Connor frowned as he stood, Hank still hadn't realized the other presence in the room. He continued to absentmindedly chew on his breakfast while staring off into space.

"Good morning, Hank!", Connor repeated a tad louder.

Hank startled and let go of his fork which clattered loudly against the table and on the floor. Connor quickly grabbed it before Sumo could lick it clean of of the sweet, amber syrup, and put it away in the sink.

He cautiously made his way to the table before sitting down on the other chair. Hank pushed his plate aside and cleared his throat.

"Hey, Connor. Slept well?"

"Although it could apparent itself to a state of sleep for a human, androids cannot fall asleep the way you imagine, Hank. I already to--".

"--told me that. I know, I know." A pause. "So, slept well?"

Connor sighed in fond exasperation and smiled. "Yes, Hank. I have slept well".

A frown appeared between his eyebrows as he asked, "Have you? You seem to be...somewhere else. Is it because of what happened last night ? Is it your shoulder? Are you in pain?". Connor's face contorded as he grimaced in guilt. He looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry, Hank. I'm sorry I wasn't fast enough and you got injured because of me. Because I'm not good enough. I'm not the best anymore."

"Oh wait, wait, wait ...The fuck are you on about, Connor? None of this is your fault", he assured as he gestured to his shoulder and somewhat battered face. He continued, "Fucker took us by surprise and nothing indicated that he would be this heavily armed."

"I should have predicted his actions. Every outcome", Connor retorted, dejected.

Hank shook his head as he stood and made his way to the android. He motionned for him to get up as well. Once he did, Hank put his hands on his shoulders and looked him right in the eyes.

"Sure, you could have…". Connor's face started to crumble but Hank quickly continued, "...were you still a machine. But you're not and you make mistakes, and that's alright!".

Connor wanted to believe it because he knew Hank believed it as well, but even after so long deviancy was still kind of a foreign concept to him. It was difficult to admit that he was flawed and accept that it was okay to be so. But he wanted to make an effort. For Hank.

"Ok", he said with determination and a nod.

Hank gently patted him on the back, "Come on, no moping today of all days. Put on your shoes and grab your coat, we're going".

Today of all days…? What did Hank mean? Connor checked as he dressed and followed Hank to the front door if they had things planned for today. He knew it wasn't anything work-related, as Captain Fowler gave them today and tomorrow off.

Hank turned around and noticed Connor's LED blinking yellow. "Stop thinking this hard, son, I swear you'll blow a fuse or something one of these days".

Son. Connor berated himself as he felt his face heat up at the endearment. It wasn't the first time Hank called him that. He remembered the warmth he had felt spread throughout his body when Hank pulled him in a hug in front of Chicken Feed that night after the revolution and said, "I'm glad you're alright, son. You did good, I'm proud of you.

And how Connor had been proud in return! He could admit that he had grown incredibly attached to the lieutenant and his grumpy ways, and basically, all Connor wanted was to keep him safe and make him proud so never he regretted the kindness he had bestowed the android.

"Where are we going?", he asked as Hank started to drive toward the outskirts of Detroit. "And why is this day of particular importance?"

Hank's eyebrows lifted and he looked at Connor with a small measure of incredibility. "You don't know? Shouldn't today be check marked or circled in red in your internal calendar ?"

"You should keep your eyes on the road, Hank. Almost one quarter of the accidents are caused by the driver's lack of attention to their surroundings".

Hank turned his head back on the road even as he dismissed Connor's worries with a wave of his hand.

"Well, if you don't know I'm not telling you". He held his hand up before Connor could say anything. *We're almost there anyway".

Twenty minutes later, that Connor spent trying to figure out where they were going, Hank pulled up in front of a nondescript house. Connor frowned as they exited the car. Did Hank know whoever lived there ? It was unlikely, Hank's relations were limited to his coworkers, Connor and Jimmy the bartender. Connor kept silent, curious, and followed Hank down the narrow gravel pathway that led to the front door. He rang the bell. Not a minute after, a woman with greying hair and more wrinkles than any of Hank's shirts opened the door.

She smiled upon seeing Hank. "Ah, you must be Mr. Anderson, please come in !"

Hank nodded. "Mrs. Fergusson, right? Nice to finally meet you in person".

She nodded in return and led them inside and to her living room. Connor followed, brows furrowed. He didn't understand a damn thing of what was happening.

Mrs. Fergusson then smiled brightly at Connor. "I'm going to get them. I hope you're excited, young man !" She laughed and then she was gone.

Connor turned to Hank. "I think an explanation is long overdue, Lieutenant. What is the meaning of this ? I don't understand !" His LED was blinking rapidly. It flashed red once before turning back to yellow.

Hank's gaze focused on the LED and he had the decency to look guilty. Then it morphed into embarrassment and his eyes fell to the side as he scratched his neck.

"It's just...uh...just a little something to--", he started to reply but was interrupted...by yapping?

Both of them turned towards the sounds and the next thing he knew, Connor was assaulted by two puppies. Little black poodles. Connor blinked a couple times, processing.

Were they here for the puppies?

Eventually, Connor shrugged. It didn't matter, he would take advantage of those over-excited creatures as much as possible. He sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor and caught one of the pup, the biggest, who was using his knee as leverage to jump onto his shoulders.

Connor lost track of time as he played with and petted the dogs. He was vaguely aware of the conversation between Hank and Mrs. Fergusson but paid it no mind until he was directly adressed.

Mrs. Fergusson bent over him, hands on her thighs, as she asked, "Have you decided which one?"

She kept looking at him with an air of expectation, smile wide, while Connor tried once again to comprehend the situation. After a couple minutes of awkward silence, Hank finally spoke up.

"It's...it's for your anniversary, Connor. Or, I guess your birthday ?". Hank cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed as a flush crept up his neck and face.

Connor blinked in bewilderment. Quickly, he searched in his databases for anything of note that might have happened on this day the previous years. He didn't have to look very far back. There. November 9th, 2038. Jericho. His face-to-face with Markus.

The day he chose to become deviant. The day he chose to be alive.

Connor slowly stood, carefully putting the puppies on the floor and walked almost in a daze as his mind was flooded by a jumbled mess of thoughts.

"We are getting a puppy?". He wasn't quite what he wanted to ask, but it was all that he could come up with at the moment.

Hank shook his head and smiled, eyes tearing up a bit. "No, I'm getting you a puppy". He walked until he was just in front of the android and put his hand on his shoulder before pulling him into a hug. Connor reciprocated, wrapping his arms around Hank rightly.

"Happy Birthday, Connor", the old man whispered in his ear, and Connor choked back a laugh as well as his tears.

They stayed like that for a while, both content to simply bask in the love they held for one another ; the two puppies barking happily as if they also wanted to participate in the celebration. Eventually, a cough behind them forced them apart. Hank looked back at Mrs. Fergusson, sheepish, while Connor busied himself with the dogs to hide his own embarrassment. She was looking at them with the kind of warmth and softness only a woman her age could muster.

"Can I...take them both?", Connor asked in a small voice. He wasn't sure he could choose which one to take back home, and he definitely didn't want to separate them. He turned to Hank who turned to Mrs. Fergusson, silently asking for permission.

She laughed. "Oh, of course! If you're sure I'll be happy to see them both with you. I just know they'll be in good hands."

Connor then picked up the puppies in his arms, heart already full of love for them. He smiled brightly at the old lady as he answered her, "I'm sure. I like dogs!"

"Aww, isn't he the sweetest", she cooed.

"Wait until you live with him", Hank grumbled loud enough for Connor's ears to pick up. The android smiled, he could hear the fondness hidden behind the words.

"But before you leave", she continued unaware of the two's secret exchange. "I still need you to fill the adoption papers. What name should I put on it?". She looked expectantly at Connor.

"My name is Connor", he replied automatically.

"A surname, maybe?"

Connor's mind came to a stop. He...didn't have a surname.

He startled and tightened his hold on the puppies as he almost dropped them in his surprise, when he felt Hank's arm around his shoulders. Connor turned towards him, but Hank wouldn't look back. The android noticed he was nervous again.

Hank swallowed around the lump in his throat as his grip on Connor's shoulder tightened significantly; it would've hurt had Connor been made of flesh.

"Anderson. His name is Connor Anderson."

Connor could only stare at Hank as he processed that statement, LED going wild. Hank finally looked back at him and shot him his softest smile yet.

"He's my son".

This time around the word sounded a little different in Connor's ears and he allowed himself to blush.

And then he realized he didn't need to change anything about himself in order to please others. He was already all he needed and wanted to be to the people that mattered.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and if so feel free to leave kudos or a comment ! ❤️


End file.
